


Can of Soda

by julienwrites



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Caretaking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25713388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julienwrites/pseuds/julienwrites
Summary: “No,” David shakes his head. “No, you’re not going to apologize. Don’t apologize for feeling things. You can’t bottle things up forever. You’ll explode if you do.” Privately, David knows that this is an explosion, like a can of coke being shaken, and that he’ll do anything to show him how much he loves him. “We’re going to stay home today. The store can wait. You’re more important.” More dejavu.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 5
Kudos: 198





	Can of Soda

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Day of Days](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25702219) by [maxbegone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxbegone/pseuds/maxbegone). 



> Thank you to the lovely Ally, who wrote the fic that inspired this all.

Patrick’s a take charge guy. He prides himself on being level headed, calm, and patient. He’s the one who helped calm his mom down when she’d found out she had cancer when he was a child. He’s the one who assured his dad that he was okay when his childhood dog passed away, explaining he knew he wasn’t in pain anymore and was living a better life. 

But even Patrick, the unfalliable rock, is entitled to a day, every now and then. The last time he’d had one of these days, he’d been leaving Rachel. And now, three years later, Patrick is laying in bed, trying desperately to get himself up and go to work. His body aches in a way that’s not illness, but pure, bone deep exhaustion, all from bottling things up. It’s not even big things, mostly small dumb arguments, sentences he knows Stevie, David or Alexis don’t think anything of, Ronnie hitting certain buttons. The idea he’s not good enough. But today, all he’s able to do is think about every single thing that’s made him even vaguely upset, and ruminate on it. 

Looking at the clock near the bed, he sees it’s barely seven am. David’s lying next to him, still asleep, face mushed into his pillow. He’s so beautiful it makes Patrick wonder if he’ll get tired of the boring business major he’s married. These thoughts he keeps locked down tight, the ones of inadequacy, knowing he’s not like David, that his husband is so much more capable of things than he is. Screwing his eyes shut, Patrick let’s out a shaky breath and suddenly he feels like he’s crawling out his skin. He needs to move, to pace, to do  _ something _ , and yet, he can’t get himself to move or be productive. 

The clock hits seven, and the alarm goes off. David groans, wiggles around under the blankets, and finally opens his eyes when Patrick hits the stop button. The first thing he notices is that his husband doesn’t look quite right. Something about his posture, even in bed, is sending out red flags. His expression isn’t one David’s ever seen, at least, he doesn’t think he has. It’s not sad, not angry, but... _ something _ . “Morning,” David murmurs, leaning over to nuzzle into Patrick’s shoulder. 

Patrick doesn’t pull him close like he normally does, nor does he hold him tight and kiss his hair, whisper sweet words against his skin. Today, David watches as his husband stays in the same position, blinking at the ceiling, as if he’s not heard him at all. 

“Honey...you okay?”

Scooting over, David lays a hand on Patrick’s chest, getting him to come out of his trance like state. 

“What?” His voice is quiet and distant. 

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” David tries to go over possible things that could be upsetting him. If it was something to do with his parents, he would already be up, getting ready to drive to Ontario. He watches Patrick turn toward him, and then the metaphorical dam breaks. 

In three seconds flat, tears start spilling from Patrick’s chocolate brown eyes, his breath coming in shaky stutters. David’s frozen on the spot, concern welling in his body, but then he snaps into action, pulling him into a tight hug. “Shh, you’re okay, it’s okay. Whatever’s wrong we’ll get through together.” 

A sob escapes Patrick’s throat, and his head shakes a little. “I d-don’t even  _ know _ what’s w-wrong,” his voice is reminds David of when Alexis was young and upset over their parents not being there. His heart breaks into pieces. 

“That’s okay, it’s okay. A smart guy once told me that you’re allowed to feel this way. That it’s okay to have this kind of day,” David echoes the words that have been spoken to him numerous times. “I love you so much.” 

They lay there for half an hour while Patrick let’s his tears out, eventually growing quiet, tears sliding down his cheeks as his face is buried in David’s chest. He rubs at his husbands back, hoping the feeling is grounding and soothing. 

“I’m so-“ 

“ _ No _ ,” David shakes his head. “No, you’re not going to apologize. Don’t apologize for feeling things. You can’t bottle things up forever. You’ll explode if you do.” Privately, David knows that this  _ is _ an explosion, like a can of soda being shaken, and that he’ll do anything to show him how much he loves him. “We’re going to stay home today. The store can wait. You’re more important.” More dejavu. 

The words earn a nod, and then a bite of the lip. “You…” Patrick clears his throat, raspy from crying. “You should get something to eat, I know you’re hungry.” 

David has to physically keep himself from dropping his jaw. Of course Patrick Brewer would be the one to try and take care of someone after just having a breakdown. “Patrick.  _ Honey _ . Let me take care of you, hmm? I need you to focus on yourself today, not me. I’ll get food when I want, but right now I want to be with you. It’s okay to be selfish sometimes.” 

Tears start again, and David hopes he’s not upset him further. That the tears are a result of some kind of realization. No such luck. 

“I don’t know h-how to  _ do _ that,” Patrick’s face crumpled and he looks so utterly confused and  _ small _ , and David kisses his hair. “I can’t just...not care or w-worry, I ne-need to-“ he breaks off when he chokes on a sob, hands twisting in David’s shirt. A thought of ‘thank god I’m not wearing a nice shirt’ flashes until David’s mind but he tells the thought to shut the fuck up. Now is  _ not _ the time.

“David...I’m not good enough for you,” Patrick’s voice rings out, and it’s as if once the words have fallen out of his mouth, another dam breaks. One of pent up insecurity. “I’m not...I’m not like your other boyfriends. I’m not rich, I’m never going to have those shared experiences. I can’t ever give you some adventurous lifestyle. I want to, so badly. You have to know that. I want the world for you. And I’m so scared that...that I’m not it. I’m not what you _need_ …”

His head is trying to wrap itself around this. Around this secret insecurity that’s apparently been manifesting itself so deeply into Patrick, and he feels his own tears fall. He knows his husband, and knows that this has been building for longer than a few months, even a year. 

“Listen to me Patrick Brewer,” David pulls back just a little, wiping away a couple of freshly fallen tears from his husband's porcelain skin. “You are so good. You’re so  _ ridiculously _ good. You care so much, and so deeply about things. You want to see the best in people, you want to show people the best in you. You fight for what’s right, you’re loyal and determined.” David watches Patrick’s cheek flush, watches as he seems to be at war with believing the words. 

“You are  _ exactly _ what I need. You’re what keeps me grounded, and feeling safe. You’re the one who teaches me new things every day. Without you I’d be my old, bitter, miserable self, wallowing in self pity. You’ve shown me life can be fun, and that as long as I have the people I love, nothing else matters. Not money, not places or stupid possessions. I’ve spent most of my life thinking I could never be loved, that once people have had their way, they’d throw me out. And you haven’t done that. You’ve somehow seen something in me, and wanted it. Wanted all of it. I love you more than I ever thought possible,” he kisses him then, hand wrapping around the back of his partners neck. 

“And please know you’re not boring,” David adds, kissing Patrick’s face and tears. “You’re the most interesting person I know. And I love all the things you think are boring. I grew up with parties and yachts and celebrities. I don’t want that anymore. I want this. This life.” 

“I love you,” Patrick chokes out. He looks emotionally drained, tears staining his face. David knows he must look the same. Another kiss, and David nuzzles his shoulder. 

“I know that won’t cure things. I know today is still bad. Let me get us some food, and we can watch baseball, or a movie, and I’ll rub your back,” David murmurs. “Are you okay if I go to the cafe? Or do you want me to stay here?” 

Patrick stays quiet a second, and then he nods. “Go get food. I’ll be okay. Head hurts, might just nap.” 

Getting up, David throws some sweatpants and a shirt on, goes to the kitchen, and comes back with two Motrin and a glass of water. “Take these. I’ll be back in half an hour,” he promises. 

Patrick does as he’s told and slips his eyes back shut. David’s right. He still feels upset, still feels like he wants to simultaneously crawl out of his skin and not move for a year. But his husband will be right back, will take care of him, and wants him no matter what. That’s all that matters. 


End file.
